Patience
by The Warrior Of Twilight
Summary: Time was patience. And the Valeyard was nothing if not patient. Short story to Big Finish's "Trial of the Valeyard". One-shot.


Time was a power these pair of buffoons between him hold so dear to them, like fragile glass that must be cleaned wiped away from the minimalist of stains.

But to him, time is a necessity. Time was, to the different minds of these 'noble' Time Lords, a thing to be used wherever and whenever possible. While they hold onto such raw power with careful hands, their prisoner preferred a more practical utilization with such kind of power. These narrow-minded fools knew not of the true power that was time.

Time was everything. Time _is_ everything. Time is patient.

And the Valeyard is nothing if not patient.

But he, too, could have been everything, like time; ruler of all things existence and non-existent, in a universe where all beings, living or dead, would bow down to their true Lord of Time. The snivelling cowardly life forms of all creation would have a true man, one closer to a God than everyone or everything else, to look to and respect from the beginning to the end of their fragile pitiful life spans.

Yes… everything would have been his, rightfully so, had his past self not thrown it all away.

Ah, speaking of which. The rebellious Time Lord has arrived. How is the Valeyard aware of this? Was there a connection between the two Time Lords that enabled the amalgamation to sense his nearby presence? Or is it the Valeyard's gift of foresight; knowing when the meddlesome fool has arrived and will go to next, due to the curl-lipped Valeyard being a distillation from the buffoon's impending future?

Neither. He knew this because he can hear the Doctor berating the ever-so-patient Inquisitor from the other side of the door. What was that childish fool ranting on about this time, he wonders. Probably to do with the whole court in general and the reason behind being summoned to this absurd trial. The Valeyard repressed the urge to flinch to his obnoxious counterpart, who spoke even louder.

That incarnation always was so loud. So melodramatic. So… _impatient. _

The Valeyard couldn't resist the sneer. That colourful pretentious man doesn't deserve to call himself a Time Lord, much less once as the Lord President.

That was what separated him and the Doctor the most, he supposed. The Doctor was a bothersome manchild, who had no appreciation for the art of patience. Not even the upcoming war, despite adding some configurations to the Time Lord the Valeyard rather preferred than his previous selves, fixed that lack of waiting a true Lord of Time must have.

After this pointless farce of a trial – of which the Valeyard can agree with the Doctor there, disgustingly so – was over, the first thing this renegade Time Lord was going to do was quickly dispose of the Doctor on that disdainful mud ball of a moon as soon as possible.

If he was lucky – even though the Valeyard questioned such a concept – Darkel will receive the same fate.

Afterwards he will turn his attention to the society on Gallifrey. There was a huge pyramid filled with the government of the Time Lords he would much rather prefer dead, one demise at a time if need be. That foolish Romana seemed to be a good target to begin with.

He is patient enough to accomplish this. And he _will_ accomplish this.

Revenge, while a dish best served cold, was to be completed with absolute perfection with one simple quality. One personal requirement that his counterpart will never half in all his miserable existence.

Patience.

Time adores patience. And time seems to adore the Valeyard enough to let him live. That alone spoke volumes, did it not?

If the Doctor can accomplish the impossible, surely the Valeyard can do the same feats, no?

Ah. His expression never wavered from composure as the irritable Castellan entered the room, whose only previous occupant were the Valeyard himself in-between two of the guards. Centuries of service kept the other Time Lord's face as blank as how he would look dead, to which the Valeyard is more than tempted to test that theory. "Your trial begins now Valeyard."

There was no reply, there needn't be. The restrained Time Lord simply followed the older Gallifreyan into the very court he honestly believed he would never see again, bringing a sense of familiarity like all places his past self had been to.

But his grey eyes remained fixed on his defence, and the Valeyard allowed to release a cruel smile towards the shocked look of his adversary.

Yes, he will be patient. Patience was time. And time belonged to no one but him. There is no more competent and knowledgable worthy overseer but he.

"Doctor. We meet again."


End file.
